A Summer Ride
by GranthamGal
Summary: Cobert Summer Smutfic Exchange: Robert and Cora learn about the art of bicycling, among other things.
1. Chapter 1

_1890_

Robert looked proudly at his two new purchases. It was a lovely spring afternoon and he had been waiting all day for the announcement of their arrival. When Williams entered the library to inform him of the delivery, he had practically bounded out of his seat in excitement, scurrying out to the front drive to inspect everything before summoning for Cora.

And he did feel rather proud of himself; he was, after all, not particularly good at shopping but he had still managed to procure two brand new bicycles from a shop in London that Rosamund had told him about. The idea had come to him a few weeks earlier, while in Ripon picking up a few things for his father. Robert had seen a young man zip by on a shiny bicycle and had immediately been enamored by the contraption. The models he'd seen growing up were far more clunky and did not look to be all that enjoyable; but the one in Ripon that day was painted a bright red and had piqued his interest almost immediately. And so when Marmaduke and Rosamund mentioned their growing popularity on the London streets only a few days later, Robert had decided he would purchase two—one for him and one for his lovely Cora.

After placing the order, Robert had indulged in elaborate fantasies of he and Cora taking long, meandering rides through the grounds of Downton and into the village. He thought of the picnics they could take along and all the new adventures that awaited them. He had been as giddy as a boy anticipating Christmas for the span of two weeks, waiting and waiting for the arrival of his new playthings. And finally, resting against the wall of Downton, there they were.

He bid Williams to go fetch Cora and kneeled down on the ground to inspect the wheels whilst he awaited her arrival. Yes, it was excellent workmanship, indeed. And Cora's bicycle had even been outfitted with a small basket. That had been an idea he'd been particularly thrilled about, for now she could even use it if she wanted to take a quick jaunt into the village to pick up…whatever it was she picked up when she went out for things.

Cora arrived at the front door a few moments later and peered out with slight trepidation, unsure of what Robert could possibly need her for out on the front driveway. But, nevertheless, she had abandoned her needlework on the settee and come as soon as Williams relayed his message. "Robert?" She called, looking around for him. When her eyes zeroed in on her husband sitting flat on the gravel—with no care for his trousers—and looking intently at someone's bicycle, she wondered if perhaps he was playing some sort of joke on her.

"Darling!" He exclaimed, standing up and brushing some errant dust from his knees, "I've a surprise for you. Well, for us both really." He grinned, stepping forward to take her hand, and pulled her in the direction of the bicycles. "Look," he said, nodding at the shiny contraptions.

Cora grinned, but not at the bicycles. Taking in the excited expression painted across her husband's face, she couldn't help but smile widely as well. Ignoring the fact that Williams and one of the footmen were standing in the entryway, Cora leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips, effectively pulling his attention from the bikes and instead to her.

"Where did these come from?" Cora murmured, pulling away and running her thumb across his chin. She giggled when he grinned proudly and took her hand again, pulling her even closer so that he could most effectively show off his purchase.

"Well," he replied, matter-of-factly, "they are from London. I thought we could use them for trips into the village and perhaps to explore some of the more secluded corners of the estate." He winked at the latter, and kneeled again, pointing out various advantages of the bicycle's mechanics.

Cora was happy to indulge her husband. He spent nearly twenty minutes lauding the advantages of the new models, and promising that she would be incredibly pleased when she had the chance to try them out. And that chance proved to be much sooner than she anticipated.

Her mother and father in law were in London for the week. They had gone for a ball and though she knew it gave Robert a bit of extra work to do around the estate, Cora rather enjoyed playing "house" with her husband. They dined alone together, took long leisurely walks around the grounds and then at night they were free to be as…vocal…as they liked, not having to worry about his parents sleeping just a few paces down the hallway. Altogether it was a rather enjoyable way to spend a few days. And so Cora shouldn't have been entirely surprised when Robert, slightly more impetuous than usual, looked up at her hopefully and suggested they go for a ride that very afternoon.

"You really want to go this very afternoon?" Cora asked teasingly. She could see the pure excitement in his expression and knew he was already mentally planning the route he wanted to take her along. He nodded and waited for her answer, which was of course, "well, alright then," paired with a sweet smile.

"Really, darling?" Robert hopped up from his place on the ground and clapped his hands together excitedly. "That's wonderful, because I've just the place in mind to take you." He ignored Cora's giggle at that and started off toward the front door. "I'm just going to inform the staff we'll be out for a few hours. Shall we meet down here in a quarter of an hour?"

"That sounds perfect, Robert," Cora replied, bounding up behind him and reaching for his hand. Leaning up for one more kiss, she held him close for a moment before letting him go set about preparing for their outing.

* * *

Cora returned downstairs just after their agreed upon meeting time. She'd had her maid Robbins pull out the one riding habit she owned with breeches beneath it. She hardly ever wore it, as Violet referred to it as "that terribly vulgar American costume" but on rare occasions such as these, she was rather glad to still have it. Robert was already sitting on the chair nearest to the door, fiddling with his pocket watch. His excitement was palpable and he hopped up out of his seat as she descended the last stair.

"Cora, you look lovely, my darling," he enthused, crossing the room to press a kiss to her cheek. Leaning in ever so slightly, until his lips were pressed right to her ear, he added in a whisper, "but Rosamund has told me that they make special bicycle bloomers. Perhaps we shall have to get you a pair the next time we are in London."

Cora raised her brow in mock indignation. "Robert Crawley, it is most ungentlemanly to discuss a woman's undergarments, you know."

He only grinned wider, attempting to surreptitiously pinch her behind—which she skillfully managed to avoid—before replying, "why ever not? I've removed enough of yours to know a thing or two about them!"

That earned him a slap on the hand, and Cora rolled her eyes playfully as she began to walk toward the front door. "You are being particularly mischievous without your parents here, my sweet. No doubt your mother would be scandalized by talk like this." She turned just as she opened the front door, and was met by his amused grin.

"My mother appreciates a good joke," he replied, leading her to the bicycles once more. "And besides, if she cannot appreciate your lovely undergarments, I suppose I'll just have to redouble my efforts."

Cora only rolled her eyes again, striding up to the bicycles curiously. "You can save the undergarment homage for later, darling. For now, why don't we start our little adventure?"

Robert nodded, and gestured toward the bike with the basket attached. "That one is yours, my dear." He watched Cora mount her bicycle before getting atop his own, and the two did a few practice laps around the front entryway before smiling in confirmation at one another; they were ready for a more advanced course.

* * *

Though Robert knew that he and Cora would need to be back to the house within an hour so as not to miss the dressing gong, he could not bear to make any changes to the bicycle route he'd mapped out for their first ride. And so nearly fifty minutes later, and nowhere close to the halfway point, it was Robert who suggested they stop alongside the road and regroup.

"My dear, I fear that I have been slightly ambitious in my plans for us," he explained, demounting the bicycle with a grimace. He had not counted on it being such a strenuous activity and he was feeling pain in muscles he'd never even realized he had. When Cora stepped off her own bicycle and only looked curiously at him, he added, "it's getting late and we've gotten a bit farther from the house than I counted on."

Cora frowned, wheeling her bicycle up beside him, and shrugged. "But we were having such a lovely time," she replied, with no obvious sign of fatigue. "Perhaps just a while longer?"

Robert shook his head, making a gesture in the direction they'd come from. "The dressing gong is going to ring in twenty minutes. There's no way we will make it back if we continue in the other direction," he explained. He would never admit that he was rather tired and would much prefer a nice dinner and bath, anyway, but that was simply an added bonus of returning home.

"Robert," Cora replied, "we've been riding for almost an hour? Even if we were to turn back now, we would still miss the dressing gong. But does it matter? Your parents are not home so it is not as if anyone will know of our tardiness."

"But the staff—"

Cora interrupted again, smiling as she got back up on her bicycle. "The staff will hold dinner for as long as we are gone. We are their employers, darling."

Robert raised a brow in surprise, but remounted his bicycle as well. Cora was not often one to do something so blatantly out-of-routine. Well, no, that was not entirely true. _He _was not one to buck against routine; she simply indulged him and followed suit. And he could see that she was having a lovely time. As she peddled in small circles on the open road, he grinned, his mind having been made up the second he saw her sweet smile.

And so they peddled onward, in the direction of the village.

Robert had not thought a few more minutes on a bicycle would really change the landscape of their afternoon. Well, literally, yes, but figuratively speaking he did not expect sudden cramps in his back and legs just before they reached the village. And to make matters worse, Cora had only seemed to glean more energy as they rode up hills and over long stretches of road. He wanted to keep up with her, desperately, but just as they reached the first shops in town, he called out "Cora," and waved her over to stop near the closest bench. Once again she peddled over with a curious expression and once again he felt slightly incompetent.

"Darling, are you alright? You don't look so well," Cora quickly dismounted and followed his lead, planting herself right on the bench beside him. She seemed disinterested in the fact that a few villagers were peeking at the young Viscount and Viscountess. It did always thrill him how terribly attentive she was to him, even at the risk of propriety. He would be loath to admit it, but he did sometimes play up an ailment or upset in the hopes that she would pamper him a little extra than she already did.

"Yes, I'm fine," he murmured, looking up at her with a rather pathetic expression. "I'm just a bit tired."

Cora nodded, reaching down to take his hand between her own. Rubbing his palm with her thumb, she looked past him and down the street, chewing on her bottom lip in thought for a long moment. But then, as it often did when she had a "brilliant" idea, her expression cleared and she hopped up excitedly, pointing down the street.

"The pub!" And when Robert followed her line of sight, as confused as he was by her exclamation, he was more confused to find that she was in fact pointing at the pub.

"What about it, my dear?" He stood, albeit slowly, and pressed a hand to his aching lower back.

"Dinner, Robert. We can have dinner at the pub and rest up. I'm sure one of the staff there would be more than happy to ride up to Downton to alert them and have them send the carriage for us." She smiled, utterly pleased by her idea, and held her hand out for him to take.

Robert blanched. The bicycles had been his idea of a wild afternoon whilst his parents were away. He had spent weeks preparing this surprise, and had been quite sure Cora would be blown away by his zest for adventure. And she had been. Apparently, though, she wanted even more of an adventurous night. To be perfectly honest, Robert was surprised that Cora even knew the pub existed; it was certainly not the sort of place he would ever suggest bringing his wife. But again, she looked at him with bright eyes and a wide smile and he wondered how he could possibly say no to her. Before he knew quite what he was doing, Robert reached out and took her proffered hand, allowing himself to be led in the direction of the pub.

They stepped inside the dimly lit main room and looked around. Robert clutched Cora's hand protectively, as if his close proximity would ward off the curious stares of strangers and the leers of men aimed at his lovely wife. But much to Robert's relief, the pub was nearly empty. And so ushering Cora to a booth in the back corner, he slid in across from her and let out a sigh. "Hungry?" He asked. Cora nodded and so he stood, his muscles aching yet again in protestation, and moved toward the bar.

"—Robert?" Cora called, just before he took a step. "I think I'll pop across the street to the telegraph office and see if they won't run up a note to Downton for us," she smiled.

Robert nodded again and left her to it, disappearing off in the direction of the bar to hopefully procure them some sort of dinner.

It had taken an unbearably long time, but several minutes later, Robert returned to their table with two bottles of beer and two empty mugs in hand. "The food's on its way," he explained, setting the bottles down. He had requested wine of some sort, but had only received an amused chuckle from the barkeep, who instead slid the beer his way. He'd nearly turned it down but he had to admit that he was desperately in need of alcohol, and the specific type did not matter all that much. He assumed Cora would not drink it, of course, but he'd asked for a second just to be polite.

Robert, as he often did, assumed wrong.

Cora was already back from the telegraph office when he returned, and she grinned widely when he set the glasses and bottles down on the table. He was just about to explain their lack of proper beverages when Cora reached out and swiped up one of the bottles, putting it to her lips before he could so much as blink.

"Cora…I...you—you know that you're supposed to pour that into a glass, don't you?" He tried not to gape at her, but just the simple image of watching her tilt her head back, the mouth of the bottle pressed to her lips, it—well, it affected him in a most ungentlemanly manner.

She only shrugged, setting it back down beside her after another long sip. "I was thirsty," she replied. "Can I have another?"

"—Another?" Robert's head was still swimming in images of her drinking from the bottle. And when he looked at her across the table, he realized that she had pulled the bottle beside her, her fingers curling around it as she tapped lightly against the glass.

"Yes, another," Cora repeated, lifting it up once more. This time she drained the last of the liquid before setting it back down, and only smirked when she saw her husband's open-mouthed stare.

Robert was transfixed by the sight of her, and blinked several times before his eyes focused on her again. "Yes, of course," he murmured, his mind busying itself with images of her lips and all the places he'd like them to be. "I'll just go up in a moment." He paused again, running a hand through his hair, suddenly remembering something of more pressing importance. "Oh, did someone from the telegraph office go up to Downton?"

Cora's face revealed nothing; she was still tapping lightly on the glass bottle when she looked up and nodded once. "I've taken care of it."

Robert smiled. Yes, Cora did always take care of everything. And so, throwing caution to the wind, he motioned for the barkeep to bring them two more beers, and he set about attempting to relax in such an unfamiliar setting and maybe even enjoy the evening with his wife.

* * *

Three beers each and a tasty meal of beef stew and fresh bread later, Robert and Cora were both feeling relaxed and more than a little giddy. Watching Cora with her beer had been the most unintentionally stimulating thing Robert had seen in a very long time; and he realized after his second beer that Cora knew he was watching her intently. She had begun to play up the motions just to tease him. By the time she was finished with her third bottle, he had worked himself up into quite a state.

"I've got to go to the washroom," Cora murmured from her place across from him. She had reached out and covered his hands with her own, and squeezed lightly to get his attention, drawing him from thought. Grinning at him, she carefully removed herself from the table and walked off in the direction of the powder room.

Two could play at that game.

His inhibitions lowered considerably, Robert stood a few seconds later and followed after her, not bothering to mask the silly grin he wore. The pub was small but the washroom was all the way in the very back, a few paces down a narrow hallway off the main room. So, waiting outside in the vestibule, Robert gazed down at his pocket watch and wondered just how much time he would have with Cora before the chauffeur arrived from Downton to bring them home.

He had little time to contemplate the matter, though, because a second later, Cora exited the washroom, gasping in surprise when she was met with her husband in the dark hall.

She barely managed a, "_Robert?" _before his lips were on hers, pressing insistently, and his hands soon followed suit. Pushing her back to the wall, Robert drew his hands around her waist, encircling her with his arms as his lips trailed away from her mouth and down to her neck and clavicle, causing her to gasp with delight rather than surprise. Cora hooked one of her legs around his, and let her fingers twine through his hair; it was something she knew he enjoyed and so she spent great care running her nails over his head and down the back of his neck. Robert groaned appreciatively against her skin and nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck, his lips and tongue drawing lazy patterns on the soft skin there as she continued her ministrations.

Robert did attempt to keep a grasp on his passions, for he was still vaguely aware of their precarious location, but when Cora's hands finally left his hair and slid down his chest, reaching for the buttons on his vest, he had to take a step back before things got too out of hand. Breathing heavily, his head a bit fuzzy from all the alcohol, he murmured, "when will the carriage be here?" And then frowned when Cora began to giggle.

"It's not coming," she replied, reaching out for his jacket lapels to pull him close to her again. His movements were slow and somewhat clumsy and so he nearly barreled right atop her as she began to kiss him again, her fingers surreptitiously moving around his buttons once more.

"Not…coming?" Robert replied after a turn. From where he was currently, he could not care less about the status of the carriage but was nevertheless bewildered by his wife's admission.

"No. We're going to stay here tonight," Cora whispered, nibbling at his earlobe. And before he could open his mouth to protest, her fingers slipped below the waistband of his trousers, grazing his manhood ever so slightly. Robert groaned—loudly—and lurched forward, unable to support his weight on shaky legs.

Reaching out two hands to press against the wall to steady himself, Robert buried his head in the crook of Cora's neck and murmured, "we cannot stay here, my darling," in a muted whisper.

"Why not?" Cora replied, removing her lips from his ear and gazing up at him. "We don't have any guests coming, your parents are away, and we've already had our dinner. Staying seems to be the most convenient thing to do, don't you think?" She leaned in close and purred against his neck, the vibrations of her voice sending him into yet another state of disarray.

"Cora, please…" he begged. She knew he was useless when she did things like kiss his neck or whisper into his ear. He had terribly weak willpower when it came to his wife. "We…we cannot stay here," he attempted again, wriggling out of her arms. "It's a _pub_," he explained, emphasizing the word pub as if it was something profane. "I won't have my wife stay at a place like this."

Cora only grinned. Still playing with him, she took a step forward to close the gap he'd created and reached up to loosen his silk tie. "You don't think this establishment is befitting your wife?" She teased.

Robert shook his head, reaching to move her hands away from his necktie as he took yet another step backward. "No, it—it certainly is not. You are my wife, the future Countess of Grantham. I cannot have you stay at a pub like some…some common—" He trailed off, his mind running in the most unhelpful circles. "_Bad things _happen here," he whispered, hoping his sweet wife would understand the underlying meaning to his words.

Cora raised a brow in surprise at his admission but a slow smirk was growing across her lovely features. She licked her lips, parting them ever so slightly, and took a gentle step toward him. "And what if I want to do bad things?" She asked, reaching her palms out until they were flush against his overheated chest.

Robert could practically hear his heart beating; his body was in such an utter state of arousal. He knew his eyes had widened at her words and he tried—and failed—not to gape at her. "You want to…what?"

Cora ran her hands up and down his chest, her nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his shirt until they touched his waist again and wound themselves around the clasp of his belt. Cora looked up into his eyes once more, her fingers tracing feather light circles across his lower abdomen, and replied softly, "I want to do _very _bad things to you. If you'll let me, that is." And to seal her promise, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, grinning when she felt his arousal against her belly and his tongue insistently demanding entry into her mouth.

It was easier than she had anticipated it being.

* * *

Robert and Cora found themselves deposited in a room above the pub, completely undressed, in a remarkably short amount of time. Cora had giggled as Robert pulled her out of the dark hallway downstairs and straight to the front room where the woman in charge of assigning rooms was stationed. He seemed to care little about propriety, or the curious smile of the woman as she handed them the key with a wink.

He hadn't thought about the possibility of one of the patrons in the pub being a tenant who might mention having seen them to his father. He did not think about his mother somehow finding out, nor did he consider what it looked like, the Viscount and Viscountess stealing off up a back staircase to a rented room upstairs.

No, all he could think about was Cora's bare skin and how beautiful she looked in candlelight; he thought about his own increasing arousal and he thought about how badly he wanted his wife—his wife who wanted to do very naughty things to him.

And so all that conspired together to make his decision that much easier, and there they were, standing before one another without a stitch of clothing on. Usually it was Robert who took the lead when it came to their romantic interludes. And Cora was happy to let him lead her; she felt delicate and feminine when he spun her around in his arms or picked her up without hesitation. He was strong and powerful; he made her feel desired and she rather loved that about him.

But tonight he remained standing beside the pile of his rumpled clothes. He knew it was about the time that he would normally take Cora into his arms, perhaps kiss her or lay her down atop their bed, but no—not tonight. Tonight his wife wanted to take the lead, wanted to do _bad things _to him. Whatever that meant. He'd no idea, really, but he was aching (quite literally) to find out.

So he stood, rooted in place, as Cora approached him and rested her hands on his shoulders, leaning up to kiss him. Her lips were soft, as they always were, and when she ran her tongue over his lower lip before biting it ever so gently, he shuddered at the contact. Her movements and touches were all familiar, and exciting, but different somehow, as if a change of setting made everything brand new. Cora pressed herself against him more deliberately, her body rubbing against places that made him groan uncomfortably with desire, and giggled when his hands stroked down her back and rested on her behind, squeezing more firmly that he might otherwise.

Cora's lips left a burning trail in their wake as they kissed his lips and then chin, soon moving lower until they were pressed against his throat. Cora hummed her pleasure into his heated skin as Robert's fingers slipped even lower, brushing between her legs until she was the one left shuddering with pleasure.

The sound of his wife's whimpers quickly made Robert forget his intentions to let Cora lead, and before he knew quite what he was doing, he had swooped her up into his arms and dropped her playfully onto the bed. Robert bounded up beside her, his hands running all over her soft skin, just until he leaned up for another kiss and Cora slapped his hand away, a teasing grin playing at her features.

"Ah, ah," she murmured, reclined up against a pillow. "Not yet. First I get to have my way with you," she explained, leaning forward until she was standing on her knees, her hands held out to her husband.

Robert took her hands, curiously, and allowed her to position him on the bed so that his back was flat against the mattress. Cora grinned and straddled his torso, running her fingers through his hair and over his chest and shoulders as slowly as she could manage. Robert felt as though he had died and floated right off to heaven. Cora's light touches and little smirks were driving him mad, though, and his body betrayed his attempts at remaining calm; he could not help but thrust his body upward, trying to silently communicate what he wanted.

But Cora was having none of it.

Bearing down onto his chest, Cora rebuffed his attempts to take things any further, and she grabbed his hands from her waist and maneuvered them up over his head as well. She nearly laughed when he released a frustrated grunt, and only leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, replying, "you're so terribly impatient, darling."

Robert took a deep breath and attempted to still his body. He looked up at his wife's amused expression and had to contain yet another frustrated groan. "Cora, please, I—I need you so much," he answered, trying to remove his hands from her grasp.

Again, she swatted his hands away.

"Robert, behave," Cora giggled. "If you don't, I'll have to punish you," she added as an afterthought.

"Oh, please—please, punish me," Robert groaned, his body involuntarily thrusting upward again. He was practically writhing with the blissful anticipation of it all. He was quite sure that if she prolonged his torture any longer, their night would be ending very soon.

But, _yet again, _Cora seemed to have other ideas.

A moment later, as if an idea had simply come to her, she climbed off of him and rolled off the bed, grinning mischievously at her husband. And an idea _had _come to her. Robert begging to be punished, to be put out of his misery, had sparked a rather scandalous idea that in her heightened state of arousal seemed like a rather good idea. Rifling around on the floor through her pile of discarded clothes, Cora popped up from the floor with one of her lacier underthings in hand. She climbed back onto the small bed and crawled up beside Robert.

"Now," she ordered, "hands up." She waited until Robert, who looked utterly bewildered, complied before looping the thin garment around his wrists and tying a fairly tight knot.

"Cora what are you—" Robert was just about to sit up, wondering where on Earth his wife had gotten the idea to tie him up as she had just attempted to do, when she winked at him and crawled back toward the middle of the bed. And if he _were_ going to protest against being so immobile, any thought of arguing with her died the very second she turned around and straddled him, though this time facing the opposite direction. And then, using her hand to guide his manhood into her, she began to move very, very slowly on top of him, turning her head to smile at him over her shoulder.

Robert knew his mouth was hanging open. He was staring, no, gaping, at his wife's shoulders, back and backside as she moved up and down, setting the pace as she tossed her loosened curls back. He could not see her face particularly well, but the view he was treated to was beyond anything in his wildest dreams. He noticed aspects of his wife that he perhaps overlooked during their usual lovemaking. The gentle slope of her waist and the swell of her bottom mesmerized him, as did the slight curve of her breasts that he could see from his position. It was such a beautiful image he was loath to even blink.

Cora moved slowly, still adjusting to this new way of being together, and tried to find a rhythm. He attempted to help her, thrusting as best as he could without the use of his hands, but Cora only leaned forward and pressed her palms to his thighs, stilling his movements as she continued to move against him at her leisure. She continued in much the same fashion for several minutes, adjusting her movements every so often so that she could look back over her shoulder at him, but never moving any faster. It was, as he had begged for, punishment. Exquisite, perfect, luxuriant punishment.

Before long, he felt himself approaching the precipice of his climax. Murmuring, _"Cora,"_ softly, yet insistently, so that it would not interrupt her movements or the delightful sound of her breathy sighs, he nodded toward where they were joined when she turned back to see why he'd called her name.

Though they had only been married for less than two years, and the first few months had been somewhat strained, Robert and Cora were remarkably good at communicating what they each needed and wanted in their bedroom. What started as obligatory, shy couplings had quickly grown into passionate, frenzied lovemaking. And once their feelings had turned to mutual love, their nocturnal activities had only become more adventurous. So, Cora knew almost immediately what Robert wanted, and what both their bodies wanted.

She smiled, carefully lifting herself off of him, and turned to face her husband. Cora moved up to the head of the bed and quickly untied his hands, effectively releasing him from her little game of cat and mouse. She enjoyed playing coy with her husband from time to time; she enjoyed the power gleaned from it, especially when he responded to it the way he had that evening. But she knew, and wanted him to know, how much she enjoyed being _his _as well. And so pressing a kiss to both his wrists as she removed the ties, Cora flounced back onto the mattress and opened her arms, drawing her husband into them.

Robert, too, knew precisely what Cora wanted, and so reclaiming the lead from his wife, he covered her body with his and thrust into her, letting out a sigh of pleasure at his newfound dexterity. Both were already nearing the height of their own pleasure, having worked themselves into states beyond just excitement, and so Robert only pushed into his wife three times before he felt her contract around him, crying out his name as her nails dug into his arms. The feel of her around him was enough to bring on his own climax and so a few seconds later he followed Cora off the edge of the proverbial cliff.

Robert collapsed into his wife's arms. His muscles were tingling from the exertion of their activities—both in the bedroom and out along the bicycle path—and all he wanted was to sleep nestled up beside his wife. Cora pressed a kiss to his throat, and then against his temple before wrapping an arm around his waist and laying her head onto his chest. _"Wonderful," _she murmured, closing her eyes. And but a moment later, feeling much the same, Robert followed her.

* * *

_A/N: Happy Summerfest, everyone! There will be one more chapter to this story. _


	2. Chapter 2

If not for his wife, Robert would have woken in up in a particularly bad mood. The sheets on the small inn bed were scratchy and made his skin itch. The sparse room was not outfitted with drapes and so the early morning sun had woken him most annoyingly from sleep. And further, if he had any lingering love of bicycling, it was rather clear that he never wanted to set foot, or, well, behind, on a bicycle ever again; his muscles ached painfully when he sat up and he felt soreness in places that would be far too ungentlemanly to mention.

But even with all that stacked against him, Robert woke, took one look around the room, and was unable to conceal his grin. Cora was already up and gathering their scattered clothes from the floor; stark naked, his wife looked even more beautiful in the warm sun than she had in the bright moonlight only a few hours before. She, too, grinned when she saw he was awake and crossed the room in a few quick steps to press a kiss to his forehead and then his lips.

"You're awake," she noted, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Of course," he confirmed, "I'm amazed I managed to sleep for so long with that bloody sunlight." He chuckled mirthfully, his words belied by his light tone.

"You were snoring," Cora noted, finally reaching down for her slip and drawing it up over her head—much to Robert's disappointment. She rolled her eyes playfully after adjusting the fabric and laughing at his befuddled expression. "I thought you would be eager to get home, darling."

"Oh, I am; it's just—" Robert trailed off, gazing appreciatively at his wife. The light silk chemise clung gracefully to Cora's body, making him forget his sore muscles in favor of far more pleasant bodily reactions.

She looked at him, expectantly, until he fidgeted just so, catching her gaze just as her eyes traveled downward to the sheets covering his lower body. "You're just more eager to stay here?" Cora laughed again, crawling onto the bed and tilting her head up to kiss him once more. And when her hands trailed lower, following the path her gaze had just taken, she murmured, "very eager, apparently," rubbing her palm over the bulge in the sheets as he groaned in blissful reply.

They were not newly married, not anymore at least. Their second anniversary was fast approaching but Robert still found himself utterly enchanted when Cora's soft, breathy voice whispered his name against his skin. He felt chills run up and down his back when she kissed him and her touch absolutely never failed to ignite a fire in his blood unlike anything else he'd ever experienced. But this morning was not one of the ordinary mornings the two spent sequestered in bed, relishing in all the delights married life offered. No, they were still in the small inn room and no matter how he tried to lose himself in Cora's touch and kisses, the aches in his back, or the random spasms of his leg muscles continued to nag at him.

It was just as he attempted to flip his wife over, her legs just about to wrap around his torso, that he let out a pronounced yelp of pain, doubling over onto his side as Cora hopped up with a terrified look painted across her face.

"Darling?" Cora's voice shifted from warmth to worry in a remarkably short amount of time. In an instant she knelt beside him on the bed, running her fingers through his hair and asking if she should call for the doctor?

Robert shook his head and managed a smile-like grimace as he sat back up. "No, no, I'm just rather sore from the riding yesterday." When he saw Cora's bewildered expression, he amended, "our bicycle ride."

"Oh, my poor darling," Cora curled her arms around his neck and pressed kiss after kiss to his cheeks and forehead. She murmured quiet adorations into his ear and promised to take care of him until he felt better. And to that end, she soon moved off the bed and finished dressing—asking only for help with her corset—so that she could go downstairs and have a note sent up to Downton requesting the carriage come to pick them up.

And but an hour later, it did.

Robert watched with slight dismay as Eliot, their driver, finagled the two bicycles onto the back of the carriage, muttering something unintelligible as one fell off and had to be retied. The bicycles, it seemed, were perhaps more trouble than they were worth. And that fact was confirmed on the carriage ride back to Downton, when over each and every bump they went over, Robert winced in pain.

It was all he could do to remove himself from the carriage without Eliot's help as Cora looked on sympathetically. She reached for his hand the second his feet made contact with the gravel driveway, but he shrugged off her grasp, feeling terribly weak and more than a little embarrassed. He smiled at her sheepishly and promised to find her later in the day, feigning a headache and a stack of paperwork that needed to be tended to before his parents returned. Cora, feeling particularly indulgent due to his injury, said nothing and only nodded, wandering off to the drawing room to write some letters.

Paperwork proved a harder task than he anticipated, too. Well, no, the paperwork was not hard—but his bloody desk chair certainly was. He could not find a single sitting position that did not make his back and, er, behind, ache in protestation. He considered lying across the settee for a brief second but quickly shook the thought from his mind when he considered what his mother would think.

Nevertheless there _was _paperwork that needed to be completed and he had told Cora he would be busy for hours. He felt foolish for brushing off her attention; he rather loved when she babied him a bit—but this sort of "injury" was no common cold or sore throat that she could will away with soft words and warm tea. He felt like an utter fool each time he fidgeted uncomfortably, his sore bottom a painful reminder of his boyish whim to go on a bicycle ride. So he tried desperately to play the part of the serious Viscount, frowning down at his paperwork and adjusting his seat cushion conspicuously each time he felt a twinge of pain. And after several hours the paperwork was in fact completed and his bottom was more sore than ever.

Robert trudged up the stairs and tried to suppress the vague sense of dread he felt. The dressing gong would ring and that would mean changing into a stiff dinner jacket and suffering through a long dinner in the dining room, followed by drinks in the library if Cora wanted. It had been a terribly long day; all Robert wanted to do was strip down to his underthings and crawl into bed with a hot water bottle.

As he made his way down the hall he considered doing just that. But even the thought made him feel guilty; he could not leave Cora to dine alone. And so instead, to bolster his spirits, he knocked on her bedroom door before going to change in the hopes that seeing her—as it always did—would brighten his spirits.

After a solid knock on her door, Robert stepped back and waited for several seconds. He wondered if perhaps she was still downstairs but he could hear faint movement from beyond the door. Curious, he stepped back, intending to knock again, just as Cora opened the door, a warm smile gracing her features.

She wore her nightdress and her hair was hanging over one shoulder tied in a loose knot. She looked just as she did before bed, and he frowned in slight confusion.

"Cora, the dressing gong is just about to ring—were you napping?"

She shook her head and reached out for his hand, pulling him into her room. "No, of course I wasn't napping. I was…" she paused, waiting until he was fully in the room before continuing, "preparing all this." And with a sweep of her hand she gestured around the candlelit room.

"I…don't understand," Robert answered, smiling bemusedly at his wife.

"We are dining up here this evening," Cora answered simply, taking a few steps toward the bed where a covered tray already rested.

"Are you set on unconventional dining whilst my parents are away?" Robert joked, nodding at their apparent dinner. Cora only smiled, rolling her eyes at him. "But, really," he asked, "what is all of this?"

"Well," Cora stood and crossed the room again, standing tantalizingly close to him. "You seemed to be in a fair amount of pain after our adventures yesterday and I thought it only right that I nurse you back to health."

"You want to nurse me?" Robert shook his head and chuckled, more than willing to go along with Cora's plans if they included skipping a formal dinner and spending the evening in bed.

Cora, still speaking softly—as if the honeyed tones of her voice would cure him—leaned up and kissed his chin before pointing to his dressing room door and murmuring, "go change; then we'll eat."

Robert very happily complied.

And soon he reentered the bedroom, dressed in his nightwear and dressing gown, to find Cora reclined on their bed with a glass of wine in her hand. She had already set one onto his bedside table and so he, in keeping with her carefully executed plans, picked up his own libation and crawled onto the bed beside her.

He took a few sips before turning to his wife, gratefully, and said, "this is heaven." Careful not to spill his wine, Robert moved a bit closer so that he could steal a kiss before reaching down to the foot of the bed where their food was resting.

They spent the next hour speaking quietly over the crackling fire and feeding each other bites of chicken between long sips of the rich wine. It was heaven, truly, and with each stolen kiss or bite of food passed between them Robert knew how lucky he was in all of it; he knew how incredibly lucky he was to be able to call Cora his wife.

True to her promise to play nursemaid for the evening, when their dinner was finished Cora set about removing the empty plates and glasses and setting everything back onto the tray. She winked at him animatedly before picking up the whole lot of it and setting it outside the bedroom door, ringing the cord to alert one of the servants to come pick it up when she reentered the room.

"Thank you for this," Robert murmured happily, slipping beneath the already warm sheets. He smiled up at his wife and turned onto his side. But Cora only chuckled, walking to his side of the bed and kneeling until they were at eye level.

She kissed his lips, ever so gently, and replied, "the night is far from over, darling," in a tone that made him worry.

He knew that tone. He loved that tone—usually.

It was the tone that meant he was going to get to undress his wife and do unspeakable, exciting, perfect things with her. Oh how he loved that tone. But tonight, taking in her smirk and the hint of mirth in her voice, all he wanted to do was shrink back and crawl beneath the blanket. He could barely move without disturbing his sore muscles. There was certainly no way he would be able to…perform to his usual standards. And he was not about to disappoint his wife. That he would most certainly never live down. And so he smiled, as innocently as he could manage, and answered, "I'm rather tired, my darling."

He waited for her face to fall, or for the displeasure to register in her expression. But if anything, his words seemed to please her. She grinned, standing back up, and kissed his forehead. "I know you are, just give me a moment?"

Curiously, he nodded his assent and watched Cora disappear into the washroom.

When she emerged but a moment later, holding an unmarked bottle, Robert cocked his head curiously, lifting himself back into a sitting positing.

"What is that?" He asked, furrowing his brow when Cora let her dressing gown slip from her shoulders just before crawling back onto the bed, the small bottle still in her grasp.

"Lavender oil," she replied, moving so that she was knelt just beside his feet.

Again, Robert frowned. Cora was smirking, which was nearly always a good thing, but he was admittedly a bit dense at times and really had no clue what she was getting at. So he ventured a guess, asking, "for your hands?" but was met with a low chuckle and a shake of her head.

"No, darling, not quite. Take off your trousers, please."

Robert felt his mouth fall open slightly. "My trousers? But darling, I thought I told you…" He felt ridiculous saying he was tired again. Here was his wife, dressed in a very fetching nightdress, holding a bottle of oil and asking him to take his trousers off. Who was he to deny her this request? And so he complied, trepidatiously, and slipped them off, waiting for some other instruction.

"Your shirt too, I think," she added, smiling with satisfaction when he again complied and removed the garment. "Now," she continued, "turn over."

He heard Cora click her tongue with displeasure when he did actually turn over. Thankfully, she explained herself a second later when she leaned down and whispered, "my poor sweet darling, you're _bruised,_" with particular emphasis on the word 'bruised' so that he would know where exactly she was looking. It was only slight recompense that she was displeased with the bruises and not his unenthusiastic demeanor.

But he had little need for her medical assessment. He had already taken stock of his bicycle injuries when he dressed for dinner. Or bed, rather. Looking in the mirror of his dressing room, he had determined that there were no less than five unfortunate looking bruises on his behind—all thanks to his wonderful new toy. He had made silent plans to have the bicycles donated to the village children first thing the next morning. Cora seemed to take her time gazing at his battle scars, taking stock of each injury and cataloguing it as he lay on his stomach like some sort of beached animal. It was a most embarrassing situation to find oneself in and he'd half a mind to ask her to stop whatever it was she planned on doing so that he could simply go to bed a draw a veil over the entire day.

That is until he felt a dribble of oil hit his back.

"Cora…"

His voice trailed off as more oil hit his back, followed by his wife's hands.

"Shhh, just let me take care of you," Cora murmured. And to punctuate her point, she leaned forward and pressed a warm kiss to the back of his neck before moving back down, straddling his thighs, and starting to massage her hands into the muscles of his shoulders and back.

Robert knew he was tense, his muscles had been strained all day, but Cora's fingers worked like magic on his tired body—pressing and pulling in all the right places. The room was quiet, save for the hum of breath and the crackle of fire, and Cora worked the oil all across his back before doing what he later suspected she had planned to do all along. She spent very little time kneading her fingers into his upper body. In fact it was only a handful of moments before he felt her shift downward again and pull the sheets back further away from him. And before he could ask what precisely she was doing, he felt the press of her fingers, along with the slickness of the oil, against his behind.

Robert was startled, very much so, but made no effort to move. He turned his head, ever so slightly, to ask, "Cora, what are you, uh, doing?" but had to turn back into the pillow a second later when he felt more oil hit his skin and her hands knead into his behind more deliberately. His face flushed to a bright red as he felt her knuckles pressing into a rather fleshy spot.

"I'm taking care of you," she replied simply, as if what she was doing was a perfectly normal course of treatment.

"But you don't have to—Ah!—Ah!—" Robert interrupted himself when she touched upon a particularly sensitive area, flinching involuntarily when her fingers danced over the area between his legs for the briefest of seconds.

He was absolute putty in her hands and was rather glad to be, actually. He quickly forgot about the propriety of it all and instead leaned into his pillow and enjoyed the sensation of his wife's hands running over his slick skin.

Her nails scraped lightly up and down his sides, across the expanse of his back, and then to his behind again where they focused most of their energy on drawing circles into his flesh or kneading a bit harder depending on the sounds he made in response. After almost an hour of this Robert was in a state of utter bliss. And finally, when he could feel the much of the oil had been soaked up into his skin and he was nearly lulled into sleep, Cora leaned forward again and pressed a kiss to his lower back, murmuring, "feel better?"in question.

Robert nodded into his pillow, grinning widely as Cora discarded the near-empty bottle onto the bedside table and flounced back against the pillows beside him.

"Good," she replied, chuckling lowly as she curled her body into his. Her skin was warm and smelled of lavender oil and soap; it made him feel happier than he could explain, and so he gathered her into his arms and pressed his body as close to hers as he could; he loved being close to her like this.

He opened his eyes, having turned onto his side to hold her, and gazed into her relaxed, sleepy eyes. She drew her hand up to his face, tracing her fingers over the rough of his cheek, and smiled warmly, happy that her course of treatment seemed to have the desired effect.

And it had, more than he anticipated it would. Earlier in the night he feared Cora would be upset at his inability to participate in the romantic activities he thought her to have in mind. But she had surprised him, as she often did, and now he felt the urge to return the favor, so to speak. And just because he was still less mobile than usual did not mean they had to forgo _every _activity. Cora had made that point very clear.

Curling his fingers into the fabric pooled at her waist, Robert brushed his thumb methodically against her thigh, waiting for a response that he could gauge. When Cora's eyes opened again—clearly surprised—and she smirked mischievously at him, he knew precisely what her response entailed.

He was undoubtedly slower in his movements than he might otherwise be. But he had no trouble lifting the skirt of his wife's nightdress just a little higher so that he might snake his fingers beneath. And he had no trouble reaching the juncture between her thighs, either, a move that produced an immediate effect.

Cora tilted her head back, biting her lip as she released a low hiss of pleasure. "Oh, Robert—that—don't—stop," was all she managed as she pressed her body into his touch, arching her back when he moved two fingers over her and began to move them in deliberate circles, the heat it created in her body spurning on his actions. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to please her most, and so he continued with the small circles, pressing the pads of his fingers into her as she cried out his name and squirmed beside him. He found it incredibly arousing, even to listen to her, but knowing it would likely end in more strained muscles and bruises on his behind, Robert endeavored to focus his attentions on Cora rather than relieve his own—albeit tired—excitement.

The focus of his attentions, coupled with their already heightened arousals, made for a rather quick interlude. And soon he felt Cora writhe around his fingers, her body tightening as she reached the climax of her pleasure. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she took a few breaths before wiping away the perspiration that had collected at her brow and kissed him soundly, grinning madly when she pulled back to look at him.

"Oh, Robert, that was…" she trailed off, cupping his face to kiss him once more, before finishing, "…perfect."

Drawing her body close to his again, Robert ran his fingers through her limp curls and smiled, nuzzling his face into her neck. "Darling, I don't know where you learned how to do _that," _he murmured, already smirking at the memory of her lavender oil, "but it just might make me reconsider keeping our bicycles."

"Oh, please do," she answered softly, sitting up so she could blow the remaining lit candles out, "I rather enjoyed our little adventure. And—" she smiled, so widely he could see it in the newly dark room, and settled into his embrace before finishing, "—and your behind, though now paying the consequences, looked terribly appealing when seated on that bicycle."

"Alright then," he replied, stifling a laugh.

And as he lay back against the pillows, his wife secure in his grasp, Robert thought that perhaps keeping the bicycles would not be such a bad idea, anyway. He would, after all, need a discreet way of getting into the village to procure more of that lavender oil.


End file.
